Chapter 8
No matter how much she would prefer to hide in her bedroom and dwell on the turmoil of feelings her encounter with Nathaniel had stirred, the needs of the investigation took precedence. So the next morning found Alice seated once again across from the Duke of Dalton’s imposing desk.
Nathaniel sat beside her, perfectly dressed, looking fresh and satisfied, completely at ease in his chair, one long leg crossed over the other, as if he were merely visiting an old friend rather than debriefing their spymaster about a mission teetering on the edge of catastrophe.
And why wouldn’t he be? He had satisfied his lust. Got what he wanted from her.
Alice, by contrast, kept her gloved hands folded in her lap, her posture straight and formal, though her mind was anything but calm.
What had she been thinking? She hadn’t been; that was the problem.
One touch, one kiss from Nathaniel, and she had come undone.
She had missed him so much. Not only the sex, but him. Her partner. Her friend. Her rock.
For a few brief moments, she thought she had recaptured that. But of course, that was not the case. The things that separated them—his responsibilities to the title, her unsuitability to that life—had not changed. He recognized it.
Their interlude had not changed his mind.
After desire was satisfied, he had been considerate and kind.
As he always was, but then they had parted ways.
He had dropped her off at their home—even though he had not occupied it for over five years, she would always think of it as their home—and had departed for his own family townhouse without a backward glance.
What had she expected? That one tumble would change his mind?
Would make him forget everything that stood between them?
Would make him abandon his family and his title for her?
If anything, it had probably convinced him more of how unsuitable she was.
Surely no real lady would allow herself to be tupped like that, in a pleasure club, with the possibility of being observed by strangers through a peephole, and reveling in it.
The memory still had the power to make her face warm with embarrassment and…
something else she didn’t want to analyze.
Because while for him last night appeared to mean nothing, for her, it had been cataclysmic. It had undone every barrier she had erected around her heart. It had destroyed every defense she thought she had formed against her husband.
Her husband.
The word, what it meant, traveled through her, making her tremble with longing. But it was impossible. Because he wouldn’t be her husband for much longer, and she would have to re-learn to live without him.
“Report.” Dalton’s voice, commanding and curt, pierced through her woolgathering, and she made a supreme effort to focus on the task at hand. But his gaze flicked between them, and Alice had the impression the formidable spymaster knew something was up.
Nathaniel spoke first, his voice smooth, betraying none of the tension that had knotted Alice’s stomach through the restless hours of the night.
“One of the men from the Russian embassy was indeed at the Black Swan.
They spotted the widow, and were clearly searching for her, but they came up empty-handed.
They mentioned something about a certain Lord A.
I got the impression the man was English.
The one the clerk was working for. Eventually, they retreated to one of the private chambers with a courtesan. “
Alice kept her expression neutral, though she could feel the heat threatening her cheeks once again as she recalled her own…lapse in professional focus with Nathaniel. She buried it ruthlessly. Dalton didn’t need to know everything.
“For your part?” Dalton asked, eyes narrowing slightly as they focused on her.
Alice swallowed, feeling as if Dalton could read her culpability on her face.
“We learned something else,” she added. “The younger man we saw at the embassy is named Dimitri. We overheard his companion use it at the club.”
Dalton’s eyes sharpened. “Good. So far, we have a name and a lead. I’ll see what can be dug up on Dimitri and this mysterious Lord A.
But the priority is still the widow. If she’s in danger—as we have every reason to believe—finding her takes precedence over exposing the Russians’ network.
If they catch her first, we lose any chance of recovering the documents. ”
Nathaniel nodded. “Any luck on your end?”
Dalton’s jaw tightened. “I followed her trail briefly—her hackney was driving east—but I lost them in the evening traffic around Smithfield.” He drummed his fingers once against the arm of his chair. “If she was heading east, she may well have disappeared into the warren of Clerkenwell.”
Alice nodded sharply. “A logical choice. She’d vanish in that maze of streets. Do you think she might have contacts there? Friends, family?”
“Possibly. Either that, or sympathizers,” Dalton said. “If she and her husband were passing secrets to the Russians, Clerkenwell would be a fertile recruiting ground. Hotbed of radicalism.”
“So what’s our next move?” Nathaniel asked.
Dalton rose, tugging his coat straight. “The Black Swan again. But not to attend an event. I’ve arranged for us to speak with the owner in private.”
The owner of the Black Swan was a woman. Anjeli was what Dalton had called her. Where had she heard that name? Alice’s eyes widened as she remembered. Wasn’t she the notorious mistress of the Prince of Wales? Their relationship had caused an uproar five or so years ago.
Anjeli’s private office was a study in opulence, all rich, colorful silks and carved rosewood, the scent of jasmine clinging delicately in the air. Alice had to school her features to neutrality as the striking Indian woman greeted them with an easy grace, her sari a riot of crimson and gold.
“I hope this isn’t about membership, Your Grace,” Anjeli said lightly to Dalton, her dark eyes glinting with humor. “My waiting list is frightfully long.”
Dalton’s mouth twitched at the corner. “I’m afraid this is about a more serious matter. We need information about a woman who visited your club last night.”
Anjeli’s smile didn’t falter, but it cooled slightly. “You know I can’t betray my patrons’ trust. Discretion is the cornerstone of my establishment.”
“This isn’t about idle curiosity.” Alice stepped forward, her voice steady. “The woman is in grave danger. Her husband was assassinated, and the people who killed him are now after her. If she’s found, she’ll be silenced permanently.”
A long pause stretched between them before Anjeli exhaled softly. “I see. Perhaps I can consult my records—only to see if she came under her own name or her husband’s membership. The name, if you please?”
“Their surname is Phipps. The clerk’s name was Thomas Phipps. We don’t know Mrs. Phipps’s first name.”
Anjeli’s smooth brow showed the slightest sign of tension for a moment. “A clerk, you say. It is unusual for a clerk to be able to afford the membership fees of my club. Let alone be invited to join.”
“He might have been sponsored by someone else,” Dalton offered.
Nodding absently, Anjeli rose. “I’ll be but a moment,” she offered, gliding from the room.
Nathaniel leaned against the wall, arms folded, watching Alice with an expression she couldn’t decipher.
When Anjeli returned, she held a slim ledger. “You were correct. Someone used Mr. Phipps’s membership to enter the club last night. It must have been her. We only have his name and address on file. And a note saying that he was sponsored by Lord A, who paid a full year of membership in advance.”
Lord A! That name again. What did it mean? Was he a real lord whose title began with an A, or an alias? An alias seemed more likely, as a real lord would be unlikely to want his name tied to this business. As expected, Dalton had snagged on the name immediately.
“Lord A? Who is Lord A?”
Anjeli’s face was carefully blank. “I’m afraid I don’t know, Your Grace.
I sometimes make these notes as a reminder for myself, but if I didn’t write the entire name, it’s because I didn’t consider it important.
I only needed to know Mr. Phipps was sponsored by a lord, and his membership was paid in full for an entire year.
In my business, it’s better to limit my knowledge to what is relevant to me. ”
Did she really not know, or was she dissembling for discretion’s sake?
Alice tried to read the other woman’s countenance but couldn’t conclusively say if she was lying or not.
Not only was the club owner extremely skilled in hiding her thoughts, but Alice also suspected there was some truth in both scenarios.
Probably Anjeli truly didn’t remember right now, but she would also be reluctant to tell even if she knew the identity of Lord A.
Dalton expelled a breath in irritation. “If you remember the name, notify me at once. I’ll, of course, compensate you handsomely for the information.”
Anjeli smiled politely. “Of course, Your Grace.”
But behind the polite facade, Alice sensed the other woman had no financial motivations for disclosing information and found it a bit insulting the suggestion that she might speak for money.
“Here is the address we have on the ledger,” she added, copying it on a piece of paper and handing it to Dalton, who glanced at it briefly before shaking his head.
“This is the old address, where they lived until he was assassinated. She is not there anymore.”
“Then I’m afraid I can provide no further assistance,” Anjeli said smoothly.
“Perhaps someone in your staff noticed where she went?” Nathaniel asked carefully. “ When we followed her out the back entrance last night, we noticed the guard chased her until she got into a hackney. He might have heard an address, a place. Something.”
Anjeli tilted her head, considering. “The guard posted at the back entrance last night did mention following a pregnant woman. He said it was odd to see a woman in her condition fleeing so quickly. I’ll summon him.”
She pushed a button on the wall behind her desk, and a footman entered.
Anjeli gave the instruction to summon Mr. Gaskell, and moments later, the guard entered.
He looked warily at them, and Alice felt he scrutinized Nathaniel and her, as if he was putting the pieces together and realizing they were the couple from last night who were following the pregnant woman.
He was reticent at first, but after Anjeli encouraged him to speak, he did.
“She told the driver Clerkenwell. Sidney Street, ma’am. Didn’t catch anything else.”
“That’s good enough. Thank you.”
Dalton straightened, already moving toward the door. “Thank you so much for your help, Miss Anjeli. We need to leave at once. They followed him out of the office and the club, and into his waiting carriage.
“Clerkenwell again.” His brows drew together. “We may have enough information to find her. But we need to tread carefully. If she’s working with radicals, she may not welcome help.”
Alice nodded, but her chest tightened. She highly doubted the widow was a radical. She looked like a lonely woman running out of options and desperate. “We’ll find her before the Russians can.”
They had to. Because if they didn’t, the woman’s life was forfeit. And that wasn’t an outcome she could live with.